Ice and Fire: Worlds Apart
by HolDoor
Summary: Takes place right after season 4's finale, with an exception. What if the Iron Bank had chosen a different sponsor, someone other than Stannis? How will this effect Jon and Dany's respective journeys?
1. Chapter 1

Takes place after season 4's finale, with one exception. What if Stannis had failed to receive assistance from the Iron Bank? What might have changed if the Iron Bank chose a different sponsor? Will stick to TV adaption's universe and versions of events. However, a few characters exclusive to the books will be added in.

* * *

Mother of Dragons

"Tycho Nestoris arrives in Mereen on behalf of the Iron Bank of Braavos, your Grace. He has requested a formal audience with the Queen."

 _The Iron Bank. An all powerful institution._ No advisers needed to fill her in on them. The mother of dragons straightened herself upon her throne.

"I accept the request."

A tall, gaunt man dressed in fine robes soon strode in, led by Unsullied loyal to their Queen.

Missandei wasted no time. "You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, rightful heir of the Iron Throne, rightful Queen of the Andals and First Men, the Mother of Dragons, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains."

The man held an unwavering smile throughout the monologue.

"It is my honor to stand before you, your grace. I, Tycho Nestoris, come as a humble servant of the Iron Bank of Braavos."

"I appreciate your long travels to meet with me. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"The Iron Bank has asked me to speak with you concerning your plans to take back your seven kingdoms."

Daenerys raised an eyebrow. Nestoris continued on.

"May I ask why you have chosen to stay in Mereen, rather than travel west, your grace? I have heard you have a great many ships." The mother of dragons clasped her hands together.

"I have chosen to rule over the city of Mereen. Here, I will usher in an age of peace and prosperity for former slaves that have known nothing but hardship. Only once this is done, will I sail west."

Nestoris maintained his grin. "How very noble, your grace. Our brank resides in a free city, thus we admire your dedication towards ending slavery. But I do have a proposal that may want to hear."

Nestoris took one step closer to the throne. "The Iron Bank is willing to aid in your high aspirations for Mereen. Aid in the form of fighting men and representatives loyal to House Targaryen."

 _How helpful. There must be a catch._

"And what would you ask in return?"

"I ask that you journey west, begin your quest to retake your seven Kingdoms from those have wronged your great family. We only ask for an affordable recompense once this is done, your grace."

"Are you asking me to abandon Mereen?"

"Most certainly not, your grace. As I mentioned earlier, representatives loyal to House Targaryen would rule here in your place. Men from the Golden Company would defend and enforce their rule, and by extension, yours."

"...These representatives, who would they be?"

"Close friends of Illyrio Mopatis." _Illyrio, now that is a name I have not heard in a long while._

"You realize Illyrio is the man who brokered a deal that sold me to the Dothraki? He might have been loyal to one Targaryen, but not the one seated on this throne."

The gaunt man before her shifted his feet before responding. "He did ask to extend his apologies for his former actions, but he also wanted to remind you that he only made that decision for the future of House Targaryen… He also wanted to send along his congratulations for the hatching of his gifts."

 _The dragon eggs. My children. I suppose I do have him to thank for that._

"Even if I find his men trustworthy enough, I did not forget your mention of compensation. Just how much are you asking?"

"The exact amount has not been determined, but know that it will be cheap and affordable. For you see, we already have motive to unseat the current ruler in King's Landing. The Lannisters, of all families, have chosen to ignore their considerable debt to our Bank. And, well, the Iron Bank does has a reputation to uphold."

"And if I am unable to repay my debt to you? Will the Iron Bank plot against House Targaryen?"

"No worries, your grace. Illyrio Mopatis is willing to repay any debt that you may be unable to pay back yourself."

 _They have thought of everything, haven't they?_

"Forgive me, my lord. You have given me much to think about. I ask that you enjoy a brief stay in my city as I come to a decision."

"Of course, your grace." Tycho Nestoris bowed deeply before turning to leave.

* * *

"The offer is tempting, your Grace. We have word that the state of the kingdom is, once again, in disarray. Tywin Lannister has lost his life. Their family's tension with Dorne is high after Oberyn Martell's death. A death the Lannisters are held responsible for. Even more, Stannis Baratheon continues to be a thorne in their sides, planning to amass his remaining troops far North."

"I sense a but, Ser Barristan."

" _But_ I have little knowledge of Illyrio Mopatis. I do not know if he can be trusted, your grace. You seem to know him better than I."

Daenerys thrummed her fingers against the council table.

"It would have been nice if he came to speak with me himself."

Daario slid his hand along the table.

"Well _I_ have heard of this Illyrio. He is known to be a rather shrewd man. I doubt a shrewd man would risk betraying a mother of dragons. One who was minding her own business, here in Mereen."

 _Illyrio had been loyal to Viserys, my own brother. And like the banker said, his gifts have become invaluable to me._ Daario cut her from any more thoughts.

"I believe shrewd men tends to pick the winning team. You _are_ the mother of dragons, is there anyone that holds a candle to that?" _Always the flatterer._

 _But he is right, and placing trust in Illyrio is worth the small risk. Still, to leave Mereen now, will my children even follow?_

 _What of Viserion? And of Rhaegal? Locked away, by their own mother no less.._

Nothing can be decided without hearing from them.

Daenerys took in a deep, shaky breath, "I must see my children."

* * *

It was pitch black. _I can see nothing beyond my own torch._ Makes sense, no one has yet dared to come down to light torches.

It has not been long, just two days back, since she chained and left them.

 _I failed them. I should have raised them better. Instead I punished them, harshly. Do they even know why they are here?_

 _Do I even deserve the title of "Mother of Dragons?"_

The sliding of chains could be heard in the dark, her heart quickened and steps faltered.

 _They're close. They have to see me by now, my torch lighting up the dark._ She began moving once more.

Her own eyes began adjusting, she could just begin to make out their shapes. Their wings. Then their spikes, their glassy eyes, and then their teeth.

Low growls reached her ears. _Fear, they were scared. And angry._ A lump formed in her throat.

 _I held you both in my arms when you were babes._

As they grew, Rhaegal always loved laying on her lap, crooning every time she stroked his head.

More memories sprang to the surface, and her vision began to blur.

Viserion was the mischievous one. He loved playing games, having her chase him. _His head always looked back, making sure I was close on his heel. He always sought my attention._

 _I love you both so much. And yet, I have forsaken you._

She was within reaching distance. The growls have grown louder, and more pronounced. Their chains clanging loudly as they both tugged against them.

 _Are you scared of me now? Do you hate me? I wouldn't blame you._

 _I should have never locked you away. I was too harsh, neither of you knew any better. I should have raised you right._

Her hand reached out for the one growling the loudest, Viserion. Her hand found his scales. She could feel him trembling.

Tears began streaming down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry." She whispered, voice quivering.

"I'm so sorry." The growls died down, but Viserion's trembling didn't stop.

Dany dropped her torch as she moved to hug his neck. His scales were rough, and jagged. But that hardly mattered to her. He was her son, as was Rhaegal. As was Drogon.

They were the only children she will ever have.

Several moments passed. She whispered words of love, words of remorse.

The trembling stopped.

Daenerys smiled, tears of sorrow becoming tears of joy. Her hands slid over to the heavy chains wrapped around his neck. The bolt was hard to find in the dark.

"You will be chained no longer. You are my children." A loud clang could be heard as Viserion's chains fell.

Rhaegal began whining pitifully behind her.

She turned quickly to tend to his shackles. Rhaegal was ready for her, his neck and chain exposed, close to the ground.

As soon as Rhaegal's chains fell, she embraced him. Rhaegal's whines turned to crooning, as he had when he was small.

 _My children. My heart. They still love me, after all my wrongs._ Dany stroked her hand across Rhaegal's scales.

"No more dark caves. You will fly. Fly along land. Fly across seas."

"Fly all the way home." Dany's voice grew steadier with each word.

"Our real home."

* * *

Bastard of Winterfell

He struggled to scratch at the binds snug tightly around his wrists.

 _A fool's errand. Too wishful for my own good._

"I made the mistake of trusting you once. Don't think I can do that again."

Jon stayed silent.

"I know it's only a matter of time before we take the Wall, last night's defense was weaker than I feared. How many did you have? A hundred crows at best?"

Jon's kept his gaze fixed on a tuft of grass nearby.

The King Beyond the Wall let a smirk grace his aging features. "Doesn't matter. Your brothers barely lasted one night. Our army is only warming up. Give it two days and the Night's Watch is no more."

Jon glared up towards his captor. "If you're so sure you'll win, why are you bothering to keep me alive? Like you said, you can't trust me after what I did."

Mance frowned in response.

"That eager to die boy? To join that army of dead on our tails?" Jon's gaze returned to the patch of grass swaying in the breeze.

"You know, I still believe you were mixing some truth amongst those lies when we first met. Wanting to fight for the side that fights for the living. There was some meaning to those words, boy, I'm sure of it."

 _Half truths._

"You're right, there was. The Night's Watch guards the realms of men from any threats, whether it be wildlings or the dead."

Mance snorted in response. "Well I'm not so sure about that. You crows are making that army of dead mighty happy, trapping us freefolk beyond the Wall like you are. The Others grow stronger by the day."

Mance crouched in front of Jon's line of sight. "You want to protect lives south of the Wall, against anything that threatens them. Isn't that right?"

Jon raised one eyebrow. "That's right."

"Then making peace with us is your best bet."

 _Making peace?_ Jon kept his eyebrow raised, "How's that?"

"Because even if a crow miracle takes place, if some southern army comes to your rescue and scatters us north. We will still end up being picked off, one by one, and added to that army of Others. A win for the Night's Watch would be a win for _them_." Jon squirmed at that.

"Right now, Jon Snow, you and the dead are on the same side, do you understand?"

There was no good answer to that one. _Mance is right._ The army of the dead cannot be allowed to grow stronger than it already is.

"So what, you want us to surrender to your army, just to spite the army of dead?"

Mance's smirk returned as he revealed the truth behind his visit. "No, not surrender. Make peace. A truce."

Without warning, Mance's knife sliced through Jon's binds.

"An alliance."

* * *

"Eight thousand years Snow, eight thousand years and nearly one thousand Lord Commanders. If we bring those _savages_ south, all the blood spilt by our ancestors will be for naught."

"If we give this army of dead anymore corpses, Ser Alliser, the realms of men will soon be for naught."

"We call them savages for a reason, Lord Snow. They can never be trusted."

"You're wrong. They are fighting for survival. They can be reasoned with. The Others have forced their hand." Jon looked around at his gathered brothers.

"Mance may be a turncloak, but he is no fool. He knows how futile a war with southern kings would be. And if he knows this, why would he fight us?" Silence followed.

"Because fighting the dead would be a far worse fate." Several brothers began murmuring amongst themselves. Jon continued on.

"If we promise them safe passage, they will promise to stay peaceful south of the Wall, even help fight against the army of dead. Mance promised this, and they listened because they value the future of their tribes."

Thorne sneered in response. "When he left us, Rayder became more savage than man. His promises could never be trusted." He promptly rose from his seat at the high table. "Perhaps now the same could be said of you?" Jon met Thorne's glare with one of his own.

"That's enough, Ser Alliser. You have said your piece." Maester Aemon languidly rose from his own seat. The air stayed tense until Thorne acquiesced. The aging Targaryen turned to address his brothers below.

"These are trying times. Perhaps if a southern army chose to come to our aid, we might not need to entertain terms like these."

"But that is not the case. We cannot hold out any longer. Only 40 brothers remain after just one night. Fighting to our last man would make little difference to an army that large."

"At this point, making peace is not only _our_ last hope, but the last hope for nearby common folk, whose pleas for help will surely be ignored by this new Warden of the North."

 _Roose Bolton._ Jon's blood boiled at just the mention of him. _I will never forgive that traitorous scum._ A new voice rose to interject.

"What makes you so sure Lord Bolton will fail to rescue us? Do you claim to be one of those fabled greenseers?" Aemon spared Janos Slynt a vacant glance.

"No need for magic to understand a man's motives, Janos. Lord Bolton is known to possess a sharp mind. If he wanted to quell a Wildling threat, he would have sent reinforcements by now. Every man is worth ten on a wall such as ours."

"His primary concern is likely a threat of northern rebellion, he would not leave himself exposed in the meantime."

Ser Alliser shifted in his seat.

"So that's it, Aemon? Have you gone senile? Surrendering to our sworn enemy because we are losing?"

Jon chose this moment to cut in, "Our sworn enemy is the dead. An _alliance_ with the free folk is our only chance at quelling the greatest threat our order has ever faced." The murmurs amongst the brothers rose once more.

Jon did not waver from Thorne's ensuing glare.

"Well we have heard both sides. Given there is no longer a Lord Commander, all of us, together, must come to a difficult decision."

"It is time to vote, my brothers."

* * *

Jon felt a stick poke his back.

"Your innards should be round me neck, boy."

Jon slowly turned to face him. Ghost made his presence known, snarling at the red-haired wildling.

"Your chosen King went through quite the trouble to form this alliance. You eager to ruin that for him? For all of you? To risk the lives of your own daughters?"

The bearded man let out a grunt.

"I raised my daughters right, they would sooner die than kneel before a bunch of crows."

"No need to kneel when making alliances, Tormund Giantsbane. Or do you forget all the clans in the forest that made peace to get here?"

"Peace with other free folk is not like peace with crows."

 _Stubborn fool._ Jon turned to place more sticks before him.

"Losing daylight. Much has to be done."

Jon hesitated, "I know that."

"You loved her." Jon kept his head facing forward.

"…Aye."

"She loved you, even after you left." Jon's chest tightened in pain. He felt Tormund pass by, placing his own sticks on the pyre. Jon grabbed the torch stuck nearby.

Long strands of hair, kissed by fire, could be seen among the branches and sticks.

" _Don't ever betray me."_ _But I did, right from the start._

 _I didn't deserve her love._

Ghost's snout nuzzled at his side. He remembered how that always brought him comfort in times past. Not today, his heart felt too hollow for that now.

" _What is honor compared to a woman's love?"_

 _Maester Aemon is a wise man._

 _This is the price I pay for being a man of the Night's Watch._

After that thought, everything felt duller than just moments before. Jon dropped the torch, and the pyre was set aflame.

 _A man of the Night's Watch. For this night, and all the nights to come._

* * *

The sun had set by the time Jon reached their camps, Tormund in tow.

They didn't get far before groups of wildlings surrounded them.

"The crow is back."

Tormund gave Jon a long look before disappearing into the growing crowd.

"Bring him to Mance."

* * *

"By vote? Ha! Never would have guessed! Crows tend to hate us free folk as much as we hate them."

Mance clapped a hand on Jon's shoulder, "Glad you got them to see reason."

Jon let out a tired breath, "Not all of them, the vote was closer than I'd have liked."

"No matter. What's done is done. Now did any of your voting involve how to settle us South?"

Jon nodded. "Groups of no more than ten thousand at a time. Three groups a day." The wildling king frowned at that.

"If we fought with everything we had tonight, we could get over sixty thousand south of the Wall, by tomorrow morning."

"And thirty thousand dead. Three days is the best I can do. Three days to migrate ninety thousand free folk is generous enough."

The King Beyond the Wall relaxed at that. "Aye, there's quite a few of us. And next to none of you."

Jon stepped within reaching distance of Mance. Just a day ago, he would have pounced at the chance to stick a hidden knife through his heart. But much has changed.

"This alliance means you're a part of _us_ now, Mance. It is those that breathe against those that don't. You best stay true to your word."

Rayder gave him a long, hard look. "Oh I will, long as you stay true to _yours_."

A certain rainy day sprung to Jon's mind. The claw marks around his eyes itched, along with the scars from his arrow wounds. _"Don't ever betray me."_

Mance's eyes lost its edge as he continued, "When will you open the gate for the first group?"

"…Tomorrow. I'll stay the night and lead a group in at first light. In the meantime, you best let your people know about the conditions we negotiated once they settle south. No raping, no reaving, no-"

"Then you best come with me, they are your terms after all." Jon gave pause before nodding.

* * *

"Let me get this straight. No stealing southern girls. No killing crows. No eyes for my collection. Agreeing with terms like that, one could call you a kneeler, Mance."

Weeper was a strange one, with eyes that never dried, holding a scythe of all things.

"Terms are just that, terms. Did you already forget what we agreed on last year? Don't fuck with us and we don't fuck with you, then we all get to live another day. This is no different. They will mind their own business, we will mind ours."

"They should have no say! Crows are weak, they barely lasted a night. Southern kneelers will be no different. They'll all fall before my scythe, no need for mercy on the likes of them."

Raucous cheers and laughter followed those words.

"That's not what would happen." The cheers fell silent, all eyes gazed beyond the fire towards Jon. His face half seen beneath the shadow of nightfall. Weeper turned to him.

"Is that right?"

"All it would take is one well trained southern army. One on horseback, to send you all packing." The crackle of the fire sounded louder than before. Mance shot Jon a warning look.

Weeper recovered from his surprise, only to close in, "You have quite the mouth on you, boy. Too cocky for your own good." he flicked his scythe around with practiced ease.

A Thenn rose up from nearby, gesturing at Jon, "You're the little cunt that got lucky killin' Styr, aren't you? Got a big head from catching him off guard? You got no idea who you're dealing with here." Jon noticed a few others rise.

Jon held his ground, despite the rising nerves bubbling to the surface. Ghost's low growl could be heard behind him, but that didn't seem to deter any of the freefolk.

The King of the North raised his voice amongst the confusion, "That's enough. You made me your King, so if you want to go South you have to respect the terms. If not, I'm sure the Others will be happy to embrace you with open arms."

Weeper's voice rose to interject. Louder than before.

"My ancestors would spit on me if I broke bread with a crow. And I say these southerners are nothing but cocky shits that can't stand up to proper warriors. How did our King grow soft so quickly?" He swung his scythe around as more voices chimed in agreement.

 _Things are getting out of hand. Something has to be done_.

Jon stepped forward "A southerner can't handle a proper warrior like yourself?" He unsheathed Longclaw and pointed it at Weeper. "Here's your chance to prove it." More laughter could be heard.

Jon's felt Mance's eyes burning though the back of his head. Weeper sauntered towards him, chuckling under his breath.

"With pleasure."

Ghost's growls grew louder in the background, but Jon silently willed him to be still.

A scythe swung within inches of his face. _Jumping right into it, are we_? Jon quickly backed up as he assumed his stance.

Weeper twirled his scythe around before curving it downwards upon him. Jon crouched low as he angled Longclaw to parry the swing, then kicked him to further create distance. _Don't' let up!_ Jon lunged Longclaw at the Wildling's ankles, keeping him off balance.

Jon does it twice more before Weeper spins away, knocking Longclaw aside with his scythe.

Jon remembered back to his fight with Styr, how careless he was to lose Longclaw among the dirt and blood. Twisting Longclaw into place, Jon lashed out at Weeper's swinging scythe. Valyrian steel met the scythe with ease, and Weeper stumbled to recover his hold.

 _May be best not to kill anyone tonight_. Jon planted one foot and drove his other knee into his gut.

But Weeper shrugged it off and whipped his head forward. Jon's eyes stung as he pushed off, blood dripping from his nose. Jeering could be heard around him.

Jon heard the scythe swing just inches from his face. "I'll have your eyes tied round me' neck, crow."

 _A fight to the death, no way around it._

Jon tightened his grip and ignored the stinging pain, unleashing a flurry of blows that forced his foe to lose ground.

 _He doesn't like me targeting his right side._ Jon pressed a few more swings in that direction as Weeper quickly grew agitated and spun away. _He's caught on_.

The Wildling went on the offensive, but Jon chose to duck the first swing and respond with a feint to his right side.

Weeper quickly moved to parry the feint with a wide swing of his scythe. It met nothing but air.

Moments later, his Valyrian blade found flesh.

A shuddered cry rung out as the scythe slipped away. Jon pulled a fist back and lashed out with a hard left hook. Weeper slumped to the ground, weakly grasping at his right side. Jon pulled a bloodied Longclaw away, drawing in heavy breaths.

Weeper's grunts of pain echoed in the surrounding silence. No one moved to help him.

The king beyond the Wall slowly stepped forward, giving the writhing man one swift kick. Weeper gave out a strangled cry.

 _I almost pity him._

"This right here, is one of our most seasoned warriors. He struck fear in the hearts of many. _"_

Mance turned to Jon. "And this one joined the crows just a few years back." Many free folk slowly looked among one another.

"You still stuck on fighting southern armies? With foes like this? Men on horseback? Decked in armor?" Once again, silence was the only response.

"We all banded together to survive. And aye, I made terms with crows for that same reason. Think of your children, and their children after that. Hells, we're lucky we don't have to kneel!"

By this point, Jon's breathing slowed to normal. He did his best to meet the gaze of anyone choosing to look his way.

"Either we live together, near crows and kneelers alike, or we die alone. Time to choose."

More quiet met Mance's words, until a looming shadow rose to great heights across the flames.

 _A giant._

" **Live."**


	2. Chapter 2

**Bastard of Winterfell**

Jon's gaze reached up to the top of the wall, where he could see men in cloaks, but little else from the ground.

He stood alone from the thousands of wildlings grouped behind him, making it clear to his brothers that he's alive and well.

 _They better open the bloody gate._

Jon took a glance behind him. The first group was made up of spear wives and children. His gaze returned to the Wall.

 _No time to spare, ninety thousand need to settle south of the Wall, in just three days._

More minutes passed and Jon's ire grew with it.

A fierce, feminine voice broke the tension. "What's taking them, crow?"

Jon turned around to find a woman stepping forward. She stuck out with her blonde hair and fair face.

 _Her name, Val was it?_ _Hard to remember them all, so much happened since last night._

"They'll open it, no need to fret." She hardly seemed convinced, but she backed up anyways.

He turned out to be half right. As the gate opened, men on horseback emerged and pressed forward. Some were holding Stag banners.

 _Baratheon banners? Joffrey's men? Or are they for Stannis?_

Jon heard the free folk growing restless behind him. Jon turned his head and raised his voice.

"Stay calm! Let me speak to them." Jon took several steps forward before the horses reached him.

Three riders emerged out in front. A woman dressed in red from head to toe. A bearded man dressed in a simple brown and green garb. And an aging man with a receding hairline and uncompromising glower.

"Jon Snow, is it?"

"It is. Who's asking?"

The plainly dressed man spoke up, "This here is Stannis Baratheon, the one true King of the Seven Kingdoms."

 _A King? Seven Hells._

Jon swallowed before speaking up. "My apologies, your grace. May I ask why you're here?"

"There's a King beyond the Wall, threatening my realm. I've been called to quash this threat once and for all." Stannis glanced in the Red Woman's direction. Jon's eyed followed to meet hers. Her gaze was piercing right through him.

 _Not good. None of this is._ Jon took another quick glance behind him. The free folk have not moved an inch. Thank the gods they're out of hearing distance.

"Your grace, did those within Castle Black fill you in on our recent decision?"

"They did. I was surprised to hear a son of Ned Stark is responsible for such a cowardly and dishonorable proposal."

Jon bristled at those words. "Call it what you will, your grace. But you have not seen what we have seen. This is all to help protect the realm from an even greater danger."

"Greater danger? Greater than the King beyond the wall?" The red woman beckoned her horse to take a step forward, her face shining with curiosity.

"Aye, my lady. Far greater. An army of dead men further north. Led by White Walkers."

"They have already gathered? So soon?" Jon blinked. _She believes me?_

"…They have. It is why the free folk have banded together. To escape south and survive the coming storm."

"Or so they told you. Why are you placing your trust in savages?" _This king is no fan of wildlings._

Jon shook his head. "I don't have to. I have seen dead men and a walker with mine own eyes. And I am not the only brother who has." Stannis started grinding his teeth as Jon finished speaking.

"Melisandre, your visions showed living savages fall. Not dead men, correct?"

 _Visions?_

"Yes, your grace. Wildling blood must be spilt before Bolton banners fall in Winterfell. You are the prince that was promised, but it is not yet time to lead the fight against the Long Night."

 _Of all the reinforcements, we get a king following the crazy whims of some red witch._

"The Boltons are next on my list. And if Wildling blood must first be spilt, then it will." Jon's blood went cold.

 _Will there be a fight? Right here? Only seems to be a hundred or so men on horseback behind them._

"Forgive me, your grace, but how many men did you bring to accomplish this task?"

The King's facial features tightened at the question. "More will come each day. The Iron Bank's cowardice will not be enough to stop us. At the very least, one northern lord knew his place. It may take several trips, but my full army will be here by the next full moon."

"If I may ask, how many are here so far?"

"Five hundred is enough to hold the Wall for now."

 _Five hundred more on the Wall. If our truce breaks now, there will be a bloodbath on both sides. Just another win for the dead._

"So, you will be defending? Not attacking?" Stannis frowned.

"For now, but if a few weeks pass and the savages still persist, I will send out what I have."

"How many are in your army, your grace? Ten thousand? Less?"

"Fewer."

"…"

"Five thousand is all I need to bring this savage King to his knees and to send the rest of them fleeing like the craven they are."

"There will be blood on both sides, your army will suff-."

"No matter. Wildling blood, then Bolton banners fall, this is certain."

 _His mind is set._ Jon's stomach fell before swallowing to quell the lump in his throat.

"Understood, your grace. And I take it you want me to deal with the group behind me?"

"We came here to bring you back alone. The group behind you hardly matters. The gate can close before they could get within five hundred feet of it."

 _That would mark the end of the truce._ Mance's words came to mind. _"Right now, Jon Snow, you and the dead are on the same side"_

Jon grit his teeth.

"I am grateful, your grace. But like my father, I cannot go back on my word. I promised safe passage, and now there is none. I will let the free folk decide my fate."

The man in the green rags bristled at this, "Do not be a fool. They will take their anger out on you. Skinned alive most likely. There cannot be a more pointless death."

"Aye, it is pointless. But all the same, I cannot go back on my word." _At least, not again._

Stannis sniffed in distaste. "So be it, boy. If you have a chance, shove your sword in that Wildling King's gut. Make your death worth something." And with that, he turned his steed back. The man in rags muttered something under his breath as he moved to follow.

All turned back. All but the red witch. Her stare was somehow more unsettling than before.

"The Lord of Light is not yet done with you, Jon Snow. We will meet again."

"Forgive me if I don't look forward to that." She let a smile grace her lips before turning to catch up.

 _Now what?_

"What took you all so bloody long? Getting stiff standing still out here."

Jon nearly jumped out of his skin. The blonde woman was just a few feet away now. Jon gave her a disparaging look, but his face quickly grew solemn.

"Things have changed." Val scowled at that.

"How so, crow?"

"A southern king has arrived to defend the Wall unannounced. So things have changed." The wildling's face grew furious as she gripped the spear on her back.

"You bloody fucking cheat. You planned this, didn't you? We could have had Castle Black by last night, but you stalled us!"

 _What?_

"Now hold on-."

"We were fools to trust a crow!" By this point her spear was pointed at his throat, and several other free folk were fast approaching.

"Wait one-"

Val twisted her spear and jabbed straight at his shin. Jon gasped as he fell to his knees. Blood stained the snow beneath him. _Words won't work here._

 _Thank the gods Ghost is still hunting. If he was here, I would be fearing for his life._

Jon looked up, expecting more fury from the woman, but he saw something else entirely. He's seen a face like this before, how could he forget?

 _Hurt. She feels hurt. She feels betrayed._ More footsteps drew near.

 _But the fault is not mine. How could I have known this would happen? I could never._

Even so, Jon felt sick to his stomach. Unbidden memories came to mind. _"Don't ever betray me."_

 _Have I been cursed by those words?_

Something heavy struck his head. Then Jon felt nothing at all.

* * *

 **Mother of Dragons**

"You know I make you happy." _Has he? Pleasant banter to lighten my days. Fearlessly fighting at my behest. A body to warm my bed. Yes, in his own way, he has._

 _But it's different. Not like before. I know what love is, I felt it with Drogo. I should not have, with how our marriage began. But all the same, I loved him by the end._ Daenerys broke out of her thoughts as she noticed her loyal mercenary waiting for her answer.

"If I am going to rule in Westeros, alliances are key. The best way to forge alliances is through marriage." Daario sniffed at that.

"You think you need marriage to forge alliances? You're a dragon queen. A dragon queen with a rightful name and powerful armies at her back. They will know a losing side when they see one."

The sellsword graced his hand near her face, pushing a stray strand of hair back into place, grinning all the while. "You are not that losing side." The corners of her mouth turned up. _Always the charmer._

"Perhaps, but fear only gets a ruler so far." Daario stayed close as he shook his head. _Too close._

"With dragons, there's an exception. Your family's history is well known. As long as they had dragons, they had little trouble ruling however they pleased." _Yes, and without them, we are nothing special._ Dany shook herself from these thoughts, before any more doubt creeped in.

 _"_ My children are still young, and Drogon is still lost to me." She swallowed before continuing. "If I am going to conquer my homeland now, I cannot rely on them so heavily."

"Your dragons will grow fast as we sail east. Feed them well and two will be more than enough. Besides, you underestimate the reputations of your armies. The Unsullied alone are fearsome foes, and my men are surely nothing to scoff at." _Yes, our armies are powerful, but even still._

"Fear can work both ways, Daario. Our foreign armies might manage to unite the realm _against_ us. I will not take that chance." The sellsword's smile left his face before moving back. A sigh left his lips before continuing.

"So who will be the lucky noble husband at the end of this alliance?"

"I do not know, maybe no one."

"But you need to lure the noble houses to the table? Are you a queen or fishbait?" Dany shot him a look of disbelief.

"I cannot have a lover and forge alliances at the same time. Putting marriage aside, lords, ladies, even the common folk will lose respect for a queen fooling around during her conquest."

"They can all go fuck themselves." Dany blinked at this. Her sellsword reeled himself in before continuing.

"If you were a king, they wouldn't think twice about it."

"So that is what you want? To be my mistress."

"I care little for what perfumed aristocrat sits beside you in the throne room. I do not want a crown. I want you." Daario grabbed her hand and interlaced hers with his.

"Let me stay by your side." He let a small smile grace his lips. "You know I can be discreet when I want to be. No one will know, not unless you want them to." _He's fallen for me, hasn't he?_ Guilt creeped into Dany's consciousness. She reached out and laid a hand on his face before giving him her answer.

"I cannot." Daario's smile slipped once more. He pulled his hand away as he moved to stand up. His jaw visibly tightened.

"Guess your mind is long made up." _That would be right._ She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, which Daario gave notice to. He plastered a smile on his face.

"Do not worry, I'm not angry. Just full of self pity! Who comes after you? Who can ever follow the dragon queen herself?" _Dragon queen. That's all I ever was._ Danaerys let out a sigh.

"A man like yourself should have no problem finding another." Daario kept quiet after that. _That's a first._ Daenerys continued on.

"Not long ago, you pledged to me your life and your sword. Does that still hold true?" Daario sent her a weary glance before nodding.

"I would still like you to fight alongside me. I appreciate your council as well as your fearlessness in battle." Daario smiled ruefully as she finished.

"Don't know how the old Bear did it." Dany stiffened at the reminder of her old friend. _A friend that betrayed my trust._ She diverted her thoughts before they wandered to a darker place.

"So that pledge was conditional? To stay loyal as long as I lay with you?" This time Daario was the one to stiffen up. Daenerys continued.

"If that is not the case, then I ask you, once again, to fight by my side. And do not forget, I will generously reward those that fight in my name." A long pause met her words.

"...I will help you get your throne back. But after that, I ask you allow me to renege on my pledge. Sellswords like myself are more suited for conquering, not keeping peace." Dany felt disappointment sweep through her before nodding her head.

"...Very well."

"We will take the throne, I'm sure of it. I hope it brings you happiness."

 _Of course it will, I was born to rule. This is what I was meant to do._ But her own reassurances did nothing to soothe the sudden tightening she felt in her gut.

 _Of course it will make me happy... Of course it will.._

* * *

 **Bastard of Winterfell**

 _It hurts._

"-own soft on this boy, Mance. The tribes want blood."

"We wait until we hear his side. He could have fled, but he chose to stay."

 _My head, it hurts._

"..He's up."

Jon eyes opened. _Everything is blurry._ Jon moved to sit up, but a hand pushed at his chest.

"Stay down." The hand did not move until Jon relaxed and closed his eyes.

Half a minute passed before anyone spoke. Jon's head throbbed through that time.

"You back yet?" Jon moved to open his eyes. _Still blurry_ , but he could make out Mance and Tormund leering over him.

"…Yes."

"Why did you stay?" It took a moment for Jon to understand what Mance meant.

"I made a promise."

"Aye, and now that promise will never come true. Not with that new army coming to save the day. There's no way out but through blood and death."

 _Wildling blood. Then Bolton banners fall. Why did that come to mind-_

Jon froze in place.

"It doesn't have to be that way."

"How's that? You got an army south of the wall, and they sent our group back. Seems their choice is clear."

"We bargain with Stannis."

"Stannis? That the King with the army?"

"Aye." Tormund cut in before Jon could say more.

"The hell do you mean by bargain? Is that not what happened the other day?"

"A new bargain. Just this time, there will be more fighting."

Mance's eyes flared in anger.

"What are you getting at?"

"This new King plans to fight the Warden of the North. To take Winterfell."

"…You want us to fight for him."

"Aye."

Tormund grabbed Jon's shoulder, "That hit to your head must have knocked out any sense left in you. We are free folk. We do not kneel." Jon shrugged the hand off.

"There is no need to kneel. This is no different from before. You were still going to fight the dead with us."

"No, it is different and you know it." Jon paid this no mind.

"It is not different. Southerners were always going to be a threat. There was no guarantee they would listen to Night's Watch pleas to stand down against wildlings settling south. No lord or king believes in white walkers. No one but Stannis."

"If he believes in the dead army, why is that cunt worried about some Winterfell?"

"He has some witch whispering in his ear. He wants to fight the dead, but he is following her visions to get there."

"So Winterfell is one of those visions?"

"Aye, and if we help him in his battle, that works for another one of the visions."

"Fighting for a southern king still sounds a lot like kneeling to me."

"You would fight with a southern king. Not for one. It is just another alliance. And once this warden is dead and gone, your stay south would be that much safer."

Mance finally broke his silence. "How do you know this Stannis will agree to your deal? Does he even need our help?"

"He will need help. Winterfell is nigh impregnable when properly manned, I would know. Winter is nearly here, his only hope alone is a long siege, but they would freeze or starve before their foe would." Jon paused before continuing.

"I saw one of your giants lift the Wall's gate like it was nothing. Winterfell's gate could not survive a siege with giants."

Several moments passed between the three. The air was tense with uncertainty. _Was that enough? Was I making any sense at all?_

Mance was the first to break the silence.

"So, once again, it comes down to convincing the clans." Tormund looked at Mance with questioning eyes, which he returned with a small shrug, then a long sigh.

"You really make my life tiresome, Jon Snow."

* * *

Mance wiped the blood from his fists as he walked away from the Lord of Bones.

 _Guess you can't be a slouch at fighting if you want to be King Beyond the Wall._ _Violence must be the only way to get these fuckers to listen._

Jon felt glad he chose to keep his distance this time. After Stannis, trust for crows was at a new low. Not to mention the pain in his right leg. Fighting would be rather difficult.

Jon heard dead leaves crunch behind him.

"Mance might trust you, but I know better." _Val._ Jon's leg pain grew worse.

"This is your people's best chance at living."

"So you say. Could also be a trap you set up to finish us off." Jon snorted at this.

"Letting you group up south of the Wall. Brilliant trap, indeed."

"Laugh it off all you want, crow." Jon felt her spear poke his side.

"But if you give me one more reason not to trust you, my spear won't be as nice as before." Jon turned to look at her. Faint moonlight was streaming through the trees, turning her hair pale silver.

 _Pretty._ But Jon felt no less empty for noticing. He gave her a sad smile.

"I wouldn't blame you."

* * *

Sunlight streamed above as he stopped just meters from the gate. They took no time to open. _Of course, now that I come alone._

Jon limped into the icy passage. He did not get far before being met with an embrace. _Sam._

"Thank the gods, Jon. You're alive!" Jon smiled despite himself.

"Good to see you, Sam." The embrace quickly changed as his best friend moved to grasp his shoulders, hard.

"What were you thinking, staying behind?" Jon blinked at this.

"You sound like a worried mum."

"Oh very funny. How could I not be worried! We lost enough brothers just a few days back. If we lost you, over such a stubborn reason as a broken promise, I-" Jon cut him off.

"Wasn't just the promise, Sam. We can salvage the truce. I just need to talk to Stannis." Sam gave him a baffling look. The portly brother lowered his voice so only Jon could hear.

"Salvage the truce? Forgive me, Jon but I don't see how that's possible."

"It's possible. I have a plan. Do you trust me, Sam?" The portly brother paused before nodding several times. Jon gave him a tired smile.

"I must speak with the King."


End file.
